Daylight is gone, no longer in savings.
Darkness awaits morning and evening.
Autumn is dropping colors from maples, oaks, and other brightly dressed trees.
Leaves carpet the ground in the rain, leaf blowers shatter the silence.
And so I sit in the morning dark,
eating my raisin and walnut oatmeal, drinking my French press coffee,
Nudists no longer bask in the sun,
Not here anyway, not in the cold rainy Northwest.
They sit by the fire, do housework, dream of sunny days to come.
But there is purpose in the dark.
Hibernation, quiet times, short days.
In these days, in this darkness,
Our dreams are born.
To dream, one must rest and be quiet,
Perfect activities for the dark.
Too cold and wet,
The dark caresses my skin
In my room.